Blogging... sleep alternative?

I'm going to use a brief (and a little cliche) metaphor referencing the seasons to sort of introduce where my train of thought at 5 in the morning as stumbled upon:

My favorite seasons are typically the cold ones. Fall, easily, because of all the colors, but winter has always had a trance of attraction over me. It's a time of year when everything freezes over, (quite literally if you live in the mountains). Suddenly the world is paused in a blur of white peaceful ice, and everyone in it is bundled in layer after layer. There's a small comfort in layers, you're not only warm, but you have the ability to hide. Hide the unwanted pinch of fat on your waist, unshaved legs, even a bad hair day can be fixed with a toboggan.

Spring eventually comes, which has a beauty entirely of it's own with promise of new life, but summer. Summer is my least favorite. It's hot, humid, and doesn't leave any room for layers. Even though you don't want to, and even though your body isn't as in shape as your New Years resolution promised it would be, you still have to find a way to expose as much skin as possible to even be remotely close to comfortable. But when you're that bare, you can only be self-conscious. Idling in front of mirrors or any surface that carries your reflection just to try to see if you're seeing what everyone else is. Avoiding large bodies of water because that means the public eye might see you in a swimsuit - the most revealing summer garment. Or the water will be too cold, mess up your hair, sloppily wash away your make up.

The thing is, we - I - have to jump into the water. I have to try to disrobe all these layers that gave me that false sense of security. Allow my pale appearance to find it's warmth and color in God instead of in my sweater that encourages the desire to be needed. Or the scarf that suffocates me with the fear of vulnerability. Or worst of all, the coat - or should I say straight-jacket - that binds me with the idea that I have to be independent from everyone and everything, including my first love.

And I - the girl that thought she was entirely self-reliant with the pretense that she was attached to nothing - became dependent on my layers. The comfort of finding more and more excuses not to feel or let anyone close enough to even see past the surface of my heart. I kept repeating the empty words "Oh, I want to learn to be vulnerable - I know it's a problem." Admitting to a problem with faux claims of "change" on the horizon is almost even worse that not knowing about the problem in the first place.

Now now, before I get too carried away (which can easily happen with problems and weaknesses that have way too many flames to juggle in one sitting) I just want to end it with the conclusion (that is, ironically, also the introduction). Summer may be a more uncomfortable season because it won't allow any layers. But it isn't about finding an alternative comfort zone. It's the opposite. Waking up out of our cushioned compliance to live without actually having to risk anything. It's about asking God what he expects from us, allowing him to take over my stubborn dictatorship that reigns in my heart, and instead of ensuring my own comfort or happiness, ensuring His.

So cheers, Summer. Here's to a season of uncomfortable, and much needed, exposure.